Never Let It Be Said
by Renebre
Summary: A revenge plan goes sadly awry. Draco seethes and bubbles. Slight humor, slight romance. Now, isn't that worth reading about?


AN: Here is another silly standalone story. If you read it, review it, please.

Summary : A revenge plan goes sadly awry. Draco seethes and bubbles and cooes. Now, isn't that worth reading about?

Rating : PG

**NEVER LET IT BE SAID**

A long time ago, I would have laughed to see a picture of myself with _her. _It just wasn't going to happen, I would have said. It wasn't going to happen until hell froze over and the demons grew wings. I would have willingly gone a whole week without tormenting Weasley and his Mudblood girlfriend to ensure that it wouldn't happen. 

But things change. 

They change a lot.

The first thing that changed was Dumbledore's death. Not at the hands of Death Eaters, my father, or even Voldemort himself.

No, after all he had been through, after the long life he had led, a long noble life, most of the wizards would have said, after all he had done, Dumbledore died of old age.

Isn't that ironic?

I didn't openly rejoice at the time, but I didn't pretend to grieve either. I had hated the old man, and he - he might not have hated me, but he sure as hell didn't love me as much as he did Potter and Weasel. I might be many things, but a hypocrite is not one of them. 

After Dumbledore's death, Hogwarts shut down for a term. They couldn't find a replacement, which was strange, seeing as how they should have seen Dumbledore's death coming. He was an old guy. He was Voldemort's worst enemy. I suppose Dumbledore was just one of those people you can never imagine dying. 

Voldemort actually attended Dumbledore's funeral. Yes, he really did. It was a last kick in the arse, the last spitting in the face, a chance to get the last laugh.

He didn't laugh for long.

Potter killed Voldemort the following year.

That changed everything.

My father had already declared himself a Death Eater openly, not one of his smarter moves. I could have told him that. Then again, Dumbledore had been the only probable reason for Voldemort to be cautious. He never really saw Potter as a threat. He knew that Potter had merely been lucky, very lucky. He led a charmed life. But no, he had never seen Potter as a threat. I could have told him that anyone who could beat him that many times - well, that sure as hell wasn't just luck.

Well, my father was shut off in Azkaban.

That annoyed me.

I had never borne my father any excessive love, or even any recessive love. It merely annoyed me that someone of the rank of Potter and Weasley could shut off a _Malfoy _in Azkaban. It was annoying. It was very annoying.

Well, I declared a feud with Weasley and I went off to France for a while to recuperate and think up a revenge plan.

I never got around to doing that, because I met her there. _Her, _her. 

We met in a bookstore - she was lolling about the romance section. Typical. I was lolling about the War section. We met on the way to the cashier.

My first impulse was to take out my wand and curse her to Mars - she was, after all, Weasley's sister. Unfortunately, I drew the line at cursing women. They were annoying, clingy little creatures, but they were also women. So my second impulse was to give her a smile. Wouldn't Weasley scream if I ended up using his sister to get back at him?

She smiled back.

She had grown up some since her years in Hogwarts, but not much. Her red hair was still red, her green eyes were still green, and she was still a semi-midget. But she had the body of a - well, not a pure woman, anyway - and there was a _look, _maybe it was the lines around her mouth or the steadiness of her gaze, but she looked as if - well, as if she wasn't a stranger to hurt.

Well, I took her out to dinner that night - never let it be said that a Malfoy doesn't grab whatever opportunity he can get - and we talked. I gleaned from her conversation that she had been dating Potter - heavily in love, apparently; I snorted - and she'd been on the verge of marrying him when she found him in liplock with Granger. She hadn't said anything to either of them, but she had broken up with Potter the next day. The next month, Granger announced she was getting married to Ron. The whole thing made my head spin. It was like a badly orchestrated soap opera. What about Potter? What happened to him and Granger? Maybe it would turn out they were long-lost siblings or summat. 

Anyway, Ginny couldn't take the _pain _of being near Potter all the time, especially with Granger's wedding looming up, so she decided to come up to Paris for a holiday. That was where I came in. 

Well, I dined her, I wined her, I bedded her. Ginny was supremely grateful to find someone who sympathized with her. The little chit thought she was madly in love with me. Well, I couldn't blame her. After the way Potter had treated her - after the _horrible _way Potter had treated her, I must have seemed like the proverbial knight in shining tin. I cooed at her, I took her through the best spots in Paris, I cuddled her, I hugged her, I made her feel like a Queen. Every woman needs that at some point in her life.

It turned out the little chit was a virgin. Well. That fit in with my revenge plan very well. Bed her, Wed her, Discard her. Only I wasn't going through the 'Wed her' part. Wouldn't Weasley have a cow and a half.

So I took her to the most romantic inn in Paris. I told her in heartfelt, short words, that I was madly in love with her and I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. The little girl fell, hook, line and sinker into the Malfoy tub of love.

And then.

HA! To you Weasley!

While she was sleeping the next morning - I believe they call it the morning after - I packed my clothes with demonic speed, settled the bill - never let it be said that a Malfoy doesn't treat his women in a gentlemanly manner - and scooted. I scooted so fast that I was out of Paris by noon. 

Now I could celebrate my brilliant success. I had pulled the rug right out from under Weasley and had gotten him back for daring to put a _Malfoy _in Azkaban. HA! Never let it be said that a Malfoy forgets a wrong done him.

Only, I couldn't celebrate. For some irritating reason, I couldn't get the female Weasley out of my mind. I saw her adoring gaze when I told her I loved her, I saw her happy laughter whenever I made her laugh. I saw everything about her.

Damn.

Well, that threw a decided spoke in my beautiful revenge plan. 

Well, I suffered under a tremendous load of guilt and being in love for about three months before I couldn't take it anymore. I scooted off back to Paris to find my lady love.

Only - only - my lady love wasn't in Paris anymore.

That was decidedly annoying. And frustrating. Where the hell could she be? I fumed for a while and then decided to contact Weasley so that I could find her. Weasley didn't contact me back.

I flew back to England to bang on the Weasley household door. Granger and Ron answered the door. They were suspiciously rumpled. I slammed a fist into Ron's face and demanded he tell me where Ginny was. Ginny slapped a broomstick into the back of my head and snarled at me, running off to cry.

My head was aching by then, but I pursued her anyway. I couldn't take another three months like the last three. 

I cooed and begged and swore my eternal undying love - this time I wasn't faking. Ginny cried and screamed and fell into my arms. We were married the next day.

We've been married for twenty four years now, and I still haven't got tired of her. I still love her.

And now, when I see a picture of myself with her, I laugh and smile and keep it carefully. Things really do change. Really. Never let it be said that a Malfoy doesn't know how to roll with the punches.


End file.
